


Unexpected Reflection

by TheArchaeologist



Series: Little Boys Blue [3]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Child Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Siblings, Connor Deserves Happiness, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Kid Connor, Kid Fic, Minor Violence, Recommend Reading In Order, Suicidal Hank Anderson, Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing, Temporary Character Death, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Has a Different Name, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-17 15:11:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18101030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArchaeologist/pseuds/TheArchaeologist
Summary: Connor is sent out on his first job following his arrival at the police department.Amanda has high expectations. The DPD have high expectations. Lieutenant Anderson, Officer Miller, and Officer Chen have high expectations.He will not let them down.





	1. Chapter 1

Connor’s first job is at 354 Kilmer Street. 

It’s a dreary morning, thick with rain that seems to saturate the entire world into long, smudged watercolours, and Connor elects to wait inside the reception area for his taxi. 

CyberLife never supplied other clothing for him, meaning he is still dressed in his pressed shirt, blue tie, black trousers and smart shoes from the press conference, none of which are great protection in this kind of weather. It would be detrimental for him to appear soaked, and he does not want to risk sparking illness in the child.

When the taxi arrives, he takes the seat by the far window, having to hop a little to comfortably climb into it, his feet dangling over the edge. The gentle female voice thanks him for using the service and whirls into life, calmly navigating the wet streets of Detroit.

Connor watches the droplets trickle down the glass, running jagged lines that morph and mould together to form fat droplets. 

His presence had been requested at exactly ten-oh-six am, and he estimated his arrival to be at ten-twenty-seven am, giving him plenty of time to review the details for the case.

He closes his eyes.

It is a crime originally flagged by a first responder two weeks ago, being upscaled to a murder inquiry by Officer Ben Collins and then later officially taken on by Lieutenant Anderson.

Marie Tailor, thirty-six, had been found dead in the kitchen suffering from multiple stab wounds to the chest, arms, and neck. Her husband Jacob Tailor, thirty-eight, was found cradling her body, and had quickly accused their android, an AJ700, of murder. 

The machine was found damaged and deactivated in the corner of the room. According to the first responder, Tailor had claimed to have destroyed the model to try and project his wife.

But that was not who Connor was going to be talking to today.

Instead, he would be trying to encourage a homeless child to talk to the police, and then Child Protective Services.

Bess had been known to officials for several months, ever since the first report of a minor rooting through bins for food. So far, they have been unable to determine who she is living with, where, and exactly how old she is, though it is estimated around ten. It was noted in October that she appeared to have hurt her arm, but later reports found that it seemed to have healed.

According to the files, Bess is shy, secretive, and no matter how many times they try and talk to her she always manages to slip away before they can bring her in. As the winter months draw closer, concerns regarding her wellbeing have been raised.

There was also the issue of getting a statement.

The fist responder to the Tailor case, when she later relayed what she initially saw to the police, described witnessing a young girl fitting Bess’ description running from the neighbourhood.

Which is why Connor is being called in.

Eyes still closed, Connor feels the familiar tug towards the garden, and allows his stream of consciousness to fall back into the programme.

Amanda was waiting for him, her roses shining in the spring sun.

Connor holds his head perfectly straight, though his fingers behind his back play with the cuff button. “Good morning, Amanda.”

“This is an important moment in your creation.” Amanda starts immediately, ignoring his pleasantries. “As your first active case, the DPD and media will have high standards. See to it that you are successful and that your behaviour is immaculate.”

He nods once. “I will not let you down, Amanda.”

“Good.”

“This case involves an android, will Detective Reed and Nines be joining me on the scene?” He inquires. “I only ask so I can properly navigate the situation. Detective Reed has a habit of starting arguments with his colleagues, it would be detrimental if he began fighting as I tried to work.”

Her tone light, Amanda smoothly explains, “The RK900 suffered a violent deactivation in the early hours of this morning. A new model is currently being prepared so work can resume on the deviancy case.” She tilts her head. “I don’t foresee any outside interruptions.”

“I see.” Connor says, LED flicking once as he processes this. He stops fiddling with the button. “That is…Regrettable.”

“It is, but such problems should not affect you. When you are done, report back to me for analysis. CyberLife needs all the data they can gather if other RK800s are created in the future.”

“Of course.”

With that the garden trickles away, Connor opening his eyes as the taxi rolls into the road of the address, Lieutenant Anderson’s car and a police vehicle parked to one side of the street.

It is still raining heavily as the doors open, and as he climbs out it instantly starts to soak into his clothes, sticking his shirt to his body. The sensation is strange, not something he has ever dealt with before, but manageable.

Further up the path, he hears the Lieutenant mutter, “I can’t believe this fucking shit.”

“Lieutenant,” Officer Miller chastises lightly, but says nothing else.

Connor elects not to comment for the moment, instead taking a second to run a critical eye over the derelict house. The windows have been filled with planks of wood, though behind those Connor can see the glass cracked and broken, but the door remains mostly intact, save for a small hole in one corner. Rats, Connor theorises.

Wandering over, his arms tightly crossed, Lieutenant Anderson’s eyes narrow at Connor, his face the picture of displeasure. Officer Miller joins them, holding out an umbrella for him and the Lieutenant.

“Well?” 

“You wish for a statement from the witness, and for her to preferably agree to being taken into custody, correct?” Water dribbles down his forehead, channelled by his quickly flattening hair. Connor wipes it back, ignoring the way it seeps through his lips and into his mouth.

Officer Miller seems to study Connor’s size for the moment, and then the umbrella.

Lieutenant Anderson begrudgingly nods. “Yeah, though the priority is getting her to the DPD.”

“I see.” Connor makes sure to note that. “And she’s in this house?”

“Yes,” Shifting on his feet, Officer Miller adjusts the umbrella to somewhat cover Connor as well, earning an annoyed side-glance from Lieutenant Anderson. “Tina spotted her when we were on patrol. She’s talking to her now, but I don’t think she’s having much luck.”

“Ok.” Reaching for his tie, Connor slowly works the knot. “I looked over the files on Bess, I trust they are all up to date?”  
The Lieutenant shrugs. “As far as we know.”

Connor slips his tie from under the collar, neatly beginning to wrap it around his hand. “And there is no other information you can give me? The more I know, the more I shall have to work with.”

“For crying out…” Lieutenant Anderson’s patience evaporates, his voice on edge. “Stop wasting time and get your ass in there! I don’t want her giving us the slip again, we’ve spent far too long getting her in as it is.”

“I…Have to second that.” Officer Miller adds, with a sincere frown crossing his features.

Deciding not to say anything and risk the Lieutenant’s wrath further, Connor tucks the tie safely into his trouser pocket, unbuttoning the very top buttons of his shirt. After a moment’s deliberation, he untucks the shirt from his trousers.

Watching, annoyance giving way to bewilderment, Lieutenant Andersons asks, “What the hell are you doing now?”

“If I am to gain her trust, looking like I just walked out of a meeting won’t help.” He starts straining his fingers through his wet hair, ruffling it into something a bit more lifelike. “I need to appear alive. Please make sure you refer to me as a ‘he’ during this, and act as if I’m another child.”

“Fuck no.” The Lieutenant spits.

Fixing him with a look, Connor pleads, “I understand that it is difficult, but it’s for Bess’ benefit. I am a machine, I know this, but I need her to see me as something trustworthy, just for a little while.”

“Lieutenant?” Officer Miller pipes up, gently, “It might be worth-”

“Ah, whatever.” Blowing him off, Lieutenant Anderson growls. “ _Whatever._ ”

It’s as close to an agreement that Connor’s going to get. “Thank you, Lieutenant. Please keep your phone on, I shall call you if the situation requires intervention.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Shifting about on his feet, Lieutenant Anderson’s arms cross over his chest, a touch too tightly for it to be a casual gesture. “Alright, fine, as long as you get her to cooperate, I don’t care.”

“Ok, I shall turn on my Integration Mode now.” His LED flickers as he blinks, brow furrowing a few times as the programme whirls into gear, ending with a final click in Connor’s processor. 

Instantly the Mode pushes his body into shivering, his wet shirt suddenly becoming uncomfortable, tight, icy cold. Goose bumps littler his synthetic skin, his hair plastered across his forehead feeling thick with water. Strangely, his ears feel numb.

“Fucking CyberLife…” Lieutenant Anderson mumbles, before waving a hand at the door. “Well, get a move on!”

“Yes, Sir.” Connor swallows, ducking his head as he darts up the path, his hands fisting as the Mode commands him to seek warmth. After a moment, he wraps his arms around himself.

Nudging the door open with a tentative shove of his foot, Connor mimes the body language of an uncertain child, inching into the room with his shoulders up, his expression wary, and his footsteps small.

The room is wide and open, practically filling the entire bottom floor of the house in a bizarre spectacle of interior design, but it makes spotting Officer Chen squatting down on the floor, talking to the child sat on the edge of a ratty couch, easy to spot.

The rest of the space is empty, save for a few discarded cans, a couple planks of wood, and an old carpet rolled up in the corner. Some of the boards across the windows have been tugged away, letting in some light at a small view out the front and back.

Connor clears his throat, the Mode instructing him to somehow release what would be anxious energy. He complies, bouncing lightly on his toes and worrying his lip.

“Hi…” He says softly, nothing more than a shy little boy. Bess’ eyes trail up to him, wary and guarded. “I’m Connor.”

She has a narrow face, Connor immediately notices, and he makes the point of noting to check the rest of her, should the opportunity arise, to see if it is just her facial structure or a sign of malnourishment. Unfortunately, it is likely the latter, given her situation.

Bess’ eyes are a bright blue colour, surprisingly not glazed with hunger or need, and her hair, a slightly tangled shade of chestnut, is tied tightly behind her head.

She glances between Officer Chen and Connor.

Officer Chen smiles, standing. “Hi, Connor.”

“Um,” He licks his lips, shuffling on his feet. “Officer Miller asked me to ask you to come outside.”

“Oh, right.” Officer Chen effortless plays along, which Connor is grateful for. She turns to Bess, “I’ll just go see what he wants, but I’ll come back, ok?”

“Ok.” Bess agrees, wiggling on the couch, however the very brief expression of relief when Officer Chen starts to walk across the room doesn’t go unnoticed.

Officer Chen places a hand on Connor’s shoulder. “If you two need anything, just call, alright? Try and warm up a bit, it’s horrid out there.”

“Thank you.” The Mode makes him smile politely. 

With a nod, Officer Chen vanishes through the doorway.

The android and the child stare at each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor's reaction to Nines dying: ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Yeah, he's still pretty machine-y at this point so no tears here.
> 
>  
> 
> Again, I shall point out here that Article 13 looms over my head. If I suddenly appear to have vanished off the face of the Earth, that fun little grenade has gone off.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor in a squeaky eight-year-old voice, "Stop in the name of the law!"

Rain continues to splatter outside.

Muffled through the door, Officer Chen speaks to Lieutenant Anderson and Officer Miller.

The room is silent.

Prompted by the awkward atmosphere, the Integration Mode shuffles Connor’s feet, his hands falling to worry together in an act of shy nervousness. He continues to shiver, water running down from his hair to drip off his nose. 

Rising from the couch Bess stands, a weary bout of confidence urging her to slowly, and then with more speed when she decides he’s not a threat, cross over to the window facing the front and street. Her shoes leave wet footprints on the bare wooden floor.

Quietly, he asks, “What’s your name?”

“Bess…” She replies, gazing outside where Lieutenant Anderson and the Officers mingle. She worries her lip, standing up on her toes to stare up and down the road through the gap in the boards. Wind whistles through a crack. Her ponytail swings as she turns her head.

Connor needs to build a rapport, to gain her trust enough that when he pokes the conversation in certain directions, she is willing to go along and provide answers.

Bringing one hand up to clutch at his elbow, he says, “Oh, I’m Connor.”

Bess sends him a funny look over her shoulder. “You already said that.”

He makes a show of blinking, before ducking his head in embarrassment. “Sorry, I get…Sorry.”

She frowns at him now, her eyes going to his LED. “Don’t be sorry.”

Internally, Connor analyses her speech, making a point to register the fact that without Officer Chen here, her demeanour is gradually building into someone surer of herself.

Perhaps a negative history with adults? It is possible she is a runaway, in which case her parents or guardians have failed to report her missing. If she has run from a care home, then it’s even more of an issue and might explain her reluctance to talk to the CPS.

“Sorry.” He says again, the Integration Mode nudging him into frowning at his own statement. Bess notices, making a small scoffing sound as she glances back outside again.

“It’s raining, why are you wearing that?”

“Wearing what?”

Simple question-answer dialogue can only get him so far, and to build a bond he needs them to interact on a more complex basis.

Bess leaves the window, scowling at him as she walks to the other side of the room, pausing to stare out the window looking towards the back of the house. Unlike the ones at the front, the boards for these have been completely dismantled, and glass crunches under her shoes.

“What’re you doing?”

“They want me to go with them.” She explains, her tone slightly absent as she continues searching for whatever she is after. Her fingers brush against a ribbon tied around her wrist, decorated with a purple bead. “I’m not going to, though.”

Connor suspects that if it was not for the fact that he is an android, she would not be telling him this. So far, she has had little reaction to his appearance, something other children tended to find strange, but the little glances towards his LED suggest that she is both used to and unbothered by the presence of androids.

The Mode makes him huff. “I don’t think they’ll like that. They tell me off if I run away.”

The use of the term ‘run away’ is deliberate, an attempt to catch her attention and relate.

She shrugs, the movement quick and jerky. “I’m not going to stay with them.”

“Oh.” While he wants to ask why, Connor must make sure to walk the narrow tightrope between his mimic of genuine curiosity and probing into what she knows is her business. So instead, he rubs his hands up and down his arms, sniffing. “I’m cold.”

It doesn’t have the desired effect. Instead of the usual child empathy that derives from such a comment, Bess just wanders over to the doorway leading to the back of the house, stating, “Rain makes things cold.”

He sniffles again, though less to pick up her interest and more to continue appearances. “Don’t you ever get cold? I was wearing this big thick coat the other night, and even then, I was cold! It took me ages to warm up. Hank made me sit in the car with the heating on.”

Connor hopes Lieutenant Anderson isn’t listening in.

This statement earns him a look. “Why don’t you turn off your temperature sensitivity then?”

Not, ‘why don’t you turn off feeling hot and cold’, but ‘temperature sensitivity’. She has not only spent time with androids, she knows some specific labels and terminology.

“I…” He withers under her gaze, the insecure movement giving Connor a moment to process and adapt to the situation.

Bess beats him, however, as she, very suddenly, abandons the door with an expression of understanding, lessening the distance between them. She fiddles with the ribbon, a movement betraying an inner anxiety of some kind.

“You too?”

The Mode moves his mouth before he can fully process. “Huh?”

“The…” She waves her hand, making a strange hitting movement. “The red wall.”

“The red wall?” Immediately he is researching, scanning the internet for the reference. Similar searches appear, popular pop culture littered with tons of names and titles called The Red something or other, but nothing matches for a wall.

She nods and hums confirmation, watching him. “I hit it a couple of months ago. It was weird. But since then I haven’t been able to turn anything off, which was ok in summer but now it’s nearly winter I kinda hate it.” 

Whatever connection Bess has made with him, it has fully relaxed her with his presence. Connor still frantically searches online, but dots are beginning to join, forming a totally unexpected result.

“Philip said it was probably a side effect, which is annoying.” She huffs, crossing her arms but smiling kindly at him. “You really should get a coat, y’know. We can still get sick.”

_We._

“You’re an android…” 

The Integration Mode flares will all kinds of wild reactions, struggling to adapt to this new information. He knows how to react to children, he was trained to mingle, to be a source of comfort, but androids he does not. He’s not _meant_ to, androids don’t experience the same things as humans.

“Yeah.” Bess plays with its zip, one foot wrapping around the back of its other leg. “Why haven’t you taken out your LED?”

He stares at it now, taking in all the features of its face. It isn’t like that standard YK500 models, but now he’s closer Connor can see the faint traces of a baseline machine, likely one that was altered, custom made, a limited edition. 

Which would be why no one reported a missing child, or why she never appeared on any school, medical, or birth records. Why they could never find a next of kin.

People don’t report machines.

“Why _have_ you?” Connor counters, completely thrown as to the proper protocol for such a situation. “It’s against the rules!”

It shoots him an incredulous look. “Because then they would know I’m an android?”

“That’s the point?”

“Don’t you know what they would do to androids like us?” Bess says, its voice raising, before realisation blooms over its features, its eyes darting from Connor to the door behind him and back again. “Wait, you _don’t_ , do you? Oh God, you’re not deviant! You work for them!”

“Of course I work for them!”

Mouth opening and closing, Bess stumbles backwards, hands reaching out for the door handle behind it. Within seconds it bursts into a sprint, yanking open the door and disappearing out into the rain.

Connor is right on its tail.

His first instinct is to contact Nines, however his connection is met with a message of unavailability, so he calls Detective Reed, instead.

The Detective answers after five rings. “I don’t want any fucking double-glazing-”

“Detective Reed, this is Connor, I-”

“Fuck off.” With that he hangs up.

Teeth grit due to the still online Integration mode, Connor speeds down the steps and across the garbage filled garden, Bess glancing over its shoulder as it slams into the metal fencing surrounding the house. A firm shake reveals that it won’t give way to crawl under, so it quickly starts to clamber up to get over.

Mud squelches under his shoes, making them unstable, slippery, but with a jump Connor latches onto the bottom of its coat, the sodden material not helping his already wet grip as he uses his full weight to halt her clamber.

“Let go!” Bess cries, kicking out. “Let me go!”

Connor calls Lieutenant Anderson.

“What?”

“It’s a deviant android, Lieutenant!” Connor ducks to avoid a blow. “It’s trying to escape-” A swift boot to the side of the head cuts him off, the coat sliding from his fingers as he stumbles to the side, arms automatically wrapping around his processor as he squints through the pain. Saline solution tears prickle in his eyes.

Immediately Bess is climbing, its hands just reaching the top as Connor rights himself. Working through the dizzying ringing bounding around his head, he leaps, using the fence to propel himself up, his hand snapping around its calf and dragging it off the wet metal.

With a shriek Bess slips, her coat scratching against the framework as they land in a heap on the floor, waterlogged earth marring across their clothes as Bess starts crawling away, Connor pulling himself up onto his hands and knees to snag its hood. His fingers are clumsy against the fabric, as if they only listen to half of his commands, but it is enough to make Bess cough as the collar of the coat tightens, twisting to kick out at him again.

“Stop resisting!” He shouts, struggling to keep her still and avoid another impact. “There are errors in your software, they’re-”

“Connor!” A voice shouts across the garden, both android heads snapping up as Lieutenant Anderson, Officer Chen, and Officer Miller burst through the doorway. Officer Miller and Chen dive forward with practiced precision, reaching to separate the two.

Bess freezes, staring blankly as Officer Miller hoists it off the floor with ease, both hands firmly on its shoulders as he stands it up. 

Mud is splattered across it, merging with its hair as a trickle of blue blood dribbles from a scratch on its cheek. It pants, eyes darting from Connor, to Officer Chen, to the ground, and then back again.

Officer Chen stares.

Lieutenant Anderson stares, moving to join the group. 

“Fuck, it is…” Lieutenant Anderson breathes, gaping. “Shit, it…”

Stiffly, Connor climbs to his feet, wincing as another round of pain ripples across its processor. “I tried to contact Detective Reed, but he hung up on me.”

Weakly, Bess strains against the hands holding it, though there is not a lot of effort in the struggle and Officer Miller keeps his grip firm, his expression is confused, pained, oddly distant. 

Lieutenant Anderson swallows. “Don’t worry about it.” He says, absently, not looking at Connor. “Take it to the precinct, we still need a statement. Chen, go with him, make sure it doesn’t give us the slip again.”

“Right away.” Officer Chen nods, glancing at Officer Miller as they begin to guide Bess away. It doesn’t look at him as it passes Connor, instead fixing its gaze onto its own shoes. 

The Lieutenant watches them go, his breathing slightly heavy and blue eyes looking without seeing. “All this time…” He mutters, softly, as if to himself. His hands fist at his side, squeezing air. “All this time, all this worry, and it was just an android. It was so fucking _lifelike_.”

Connor shivers, the new layers of rain and mud sinking cold into his sensors. “I’m not equipped for dealing with deviancy, so I didn’t immediately realise it was an android. I’m…Sorry, it took me so long to realise.” He indicates to the fence. “This could have been avoided.”

Seemingly unbothered by the rain, Lieutenant Anderson glances at him. “How did you work it out?”

“It thought I was also deviant.” Connor explains, turning his face downwards to stare at his hands, LED flashing a constant yellow as he takes in the new, malfunctioning shiver at the end of his fingers. “I don’t think it realised I had an Integration Mode.”

“I see.” Swallowing thickly, Lieutenant Anderson haltingly starts back towards the house. “Right, well, uh, we better get back to the precinct. I’m gonna have to update the reports. Shit, and let the CPS know.”

“I can help.” Connor offers, trailing behind and tucking his twitching hands under his armpits. “My memory of the incident can be attached to the files, and I can add in my analysis.”

Lieutenant Anderson appears to only be half listening. “Right, right…”

Crossing through the house, the Lieutenant makes sure to shove the door closed behind them, using his shoulder to give it an extra thud. Walking down the path, Connor starts to head further up the sidewalk.

“I shall see you back at the DPD, Lieutenant.” Moving to stand beside a lamppost, Connor silently calls for a taxi. It’s estimation arrival time registers as the next twenty minutes.

The rain continues to fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because Nines took Connor's place, Connor never got a Daniel.
> 
> So I fixed it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank is having a bad day. What else is new?

Lieutenant Anderson sits in his car and stews.

Really, he ought to move, because he’s not at a fucking scene anymore and he’s being glared at by all the other drivers forced to manoeuvre around him. The rain continues to splatter on the roof, the miserable day not getting any goddamn brighter, and cold water happily dribbles down the back of his coat to soak through his shirt.

What a fucking day.

What a mother fucking day.

It’s not even twelve yet. He’s still got several hours on the clock and he already feels like giving in and heading home. The only reason he got up was because he heard about Bess being spotted, the thought of a kid out in weather like this sinking deep and dark into him.

All for absolutely nothing. After months of concern, it’s not even a real child, just another fake imitation purchased off a shelf like a can of beans.

Sitting forward, Hank rests his head on his hands clasping the steering wheel, letting out a long, low breath.

Fucking Kamski.

Fucking CyberLife.

Shit. _Fuck._

Perhaps he’ll call it a day, pack it in now and spend the rest of it in a whiskey bliss. It would give him enough time that when it comes to tomorrow, he can be so hungover that his mind will be pleasantly numb to the paperwork, and the call to the CPS. Fowler can fuck himself if he thinks Hank will willingly do that sober.

Dragging his eyes up, Hank peers over the top of the wheel, locking onto the android standing on the sidewalk, arms wrapped tightly around himself as he visible shakes.

Hank would love a private word with whoever designed the machine. Huge brown eyes, thick brown hair, so pale he almost looks sickly, fuck it creeps him out. Make his hair a little wilder and longer and it would be perfect horror movie material. 

It also brings up the image of another little boy, one that used to cling to him, ask him to read bedtime stories or if they could get a dog.

Falling back into his seat, he runs his hands over his face, sucking in a breath. 

Shit. 

Shit, shit, _shit_ , he had been doing so well, had successfully spent a good morning without the thoughts of Cole tugging at his mind, dragging his heart back through his shoes as the sheer wall of grief collapses on top of him.

And Connor just continues to stand there, like a kitten in the rain, drenched through and muddy and so clearly miserable that it was practically painful.

But it’s just a gimmick. Nothing more than a pretence of humanity. The other android has said as much, had explained Connor was able to charade a childlike persona as part of a social programming something or other. It wasn’t real.  
Bess had looked so scared.

Connor continues to shake, his LED yellow.

“Fuck.” Hank spits to no one, anger and loss and the shock of the revelation pumping through his veins. He hits the wheel with his palm, gritting his teeth through the smack of pain. “ _Fuck!”_

His body moves without him, Hank flicking on the ignition and putting the car into gear as he rolls slowly forward, winding down the window as he does. Freezing winds waft in, splattering drops of rain onto his face.

Glancing up, the child android frowns, blinking out water dribbling into his eyes.

“Get in.” Hank growls, stern and dangerous and just daring Connor to say the wrong fucking thing. “Before I change my mind.”

Connor looks from Hank, to the car, and back again. “But…The mud-”

“It’s had worse, now you want a lift or not?”

“Oh, thank you, Lieutenant.”

The words are so stilted and fake that he nearly speeds off then and there. “Whatever. Just get in.”

Quickly running around the front of the vehicle, Connor fumbles with the door for a moment before clambering inside. His wet clothes leave a damp skid mark across the passenger seat, dripping off the ends of his trousers to make the car floor damp. Hank waits for him to click on his seatbelt, and then pulls away.

“Thank you again, I appreciate the offer.” The android pipes up, his shoes hanging off the edge of a seat in an image that hurts in a way that Hank was not expecting. He grunts, not trusting himself to open his mouth and risk raising his ire.

He doesn’t fancy the fine for shoving the machine out the moving car.

As they come to a traffic light Hank reaches across, flicking on the radio and faffing with the signal until he finds a station with some half-decent music. Connor tilts his head at him, still shaking with his arms around himself, so while he is there Hank switches the heating on as well, though to be fair the rain has soaked into his socks and his feet are numb.

“Um,” Connor starts, brushing his sodden hair from his eyes. “I…I want to apologise, again, for my behaviour the other day. It wasn’t right, I shouldn’t have said the things that I did. I’m sorry.”

“Fuck, you’ve even got a brown-nosing apology programme, huh? Shit, those techies thought of every goddamn thing.”

Connor seems put off by that, shifting in the seat and making the leather squeak from his wet clothing. He stills at the sound, though his dangling foot starts to bounce up and down. His LED continues to circle yellow and he blinks slowly.

“Hey, isn’t that thing meant to be blue?” Hank taps the side of his own forehead. “You broke or something?”

“Oh, no, not…” He pauses, face contemplative. “Not _broken_ , but I was hurt in the scuffle with Bess.”

“It serious? Do I need to detour to CyberLife?”

“No, I have a repair programme that should fix it, albeit slowly. It was decided that, unlike regular androids who could heal within moments, if a child struck me the injury should heal at a more ‘realistic’ pace. I would only seem fake if I was suddenly be fine, after all.” Connor frowns at this, his hands visibly clenching. “I believe it is similar to an injury feature on the YK500s.”

“So will Bess be sporting bruises when I interview her?” Fuck, Hank was going to have to do that, wasn’t he?

Connor shakes his head, leaning back into the seat. “We don’t so much as get bruises, but things will take longer to heal. Though considering that Bess is not a standard YK500 model, I don’t know how it will affect it.”

“Not a standard model?”

“I think it’s a custom android, or a limited addition.”

“Oh.” Hank chews the inside of his cheek. “That’ll be why we thought it was a kid, then.”

“It fooled me as well.” Connor adds in quietly, almost softly, the bouncing of his foot stopping.

Saying nothing to this, Hank allows silence to fill the car, save for the tunes twisting out of the speakers. The song dies way, giving way to an announcer requesting call-ins for a quiz they’ll be holding in five minutes for some farfetched prize.

Rain continues to beat down, working the wipers well as they slide back and forth across the windscreen. Despite not even being lunchtime yet, the dark and heavy clouds cast a deep gloom over Detroit, making the city lights flicker on as if it was early evening. Colours saturate together, merging as one into long streaks of shop window displays and car headlights.

Hank’s glad he checked the tires a few weeks ago.

He has made it a habit by this point. Drunk, hungover, or whatever, Hank always checks his tires.

His hands involuntarily tighten on the wheel, and he sets his jaw, shoving those thoughts deep down until they sit loaded in his gut. It twists there, growing and gnawing away at his hunger until he just feels sick.

What he needs is alcohol.

A shit-ton of alcohol.

And his dog. 

Poor Sumo’s beginning to get grey now, dotted around his muzzle like odd freckles. It makes him grumbly, and he’s started complaining whenever he is forced to climb to his feet in a way that reminds Hand all too much like himself. Once he’s up he’s fine though, still very happy to climb all over Hank when he’s sat on the couch or in bed.

He is also very happy to sit at his feet whenever Hank is eating something, stupid mutt. One day he’ll eat something he shouldn’t. It’s probably a miracle that he hasn’t already.

Hank doesn’t get many miracles in his life.

Grinding his teeth together so hard he can hear them squeak inside his head, Hank forces his mind perfectly blank, his feet damp and uncomfortable in his wet shoes. He has a case, so he should focus on that, not his dwellings of the past. 

That can be saved for later, when there’s a drink in one hand and a gun in another.

Perhaps tonight will be another miracle.

Working his tongue, smacking it against the roof of his mouth, Hank glances over at Connor, expecting the android to still be shivering.

He’s not, or at least he’s not as much as he was before. But what really catches Hank off guard is the fact that Connor’s head has slumped down into the space between the seat and the window, eyes closed and breathing slow.

_Shit._

Fuck no, this was why he wasn’t going to interact with the machine. Holy hell that’s…Nope. He’s not even going to go there. He’s been through too many shitty things already today, Hank absolutely refuses to be part of another.

Snapping his full attention back to the road, Hank stares dead ahead, blatantly ignoring the android snoozing in his car, the way his LED flashes in the glass of the windscreen. The zonked-out face of another child flickers through his mind, as if someone was switching a light on and off rapidly and imprinting the image into his eyes. 

Unlike Connor, Cole had to be strapped into a car seat, something they both hated with venom, Cole because he found it uncomfortable, Hank because he could never get the goddamn thing buckled right. In the end, Hank had used it as motivation for Cole to eat his greens.

_Cole._

Fuck, he really might dump the rest of the day on Chen and Miller. Or better yet, drive the machine that had decided to _fall asleep in his car_ out of state and shoot it. CyberLife were CyberLife, they had so many little pests running around that, surely, they wouldn’t miss one?

Hank turns up the volume of the radio, and if Connor startles, then Hank tells himself he doesn’t care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone mentioned last chapter than they wanted Hank to warm Connor up in the car, and I, having already written this chapter, just had to reply like 'haha, well we'll have to see :) :)' which made me laugh so much! Great minds think alike!!
> 
> And Hank, buddy, shouldn't you be referring to Connor as 'it' throughout this chapter? I mean, you're hardly one to follow Connor's rules, unless.....
> 
>  
> 
> Don't forget to subscribe to the series!!


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